


Future Rewritten

by NaomiPhoenix



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Episode VI: Return of the Jedi, Star Wars Episode VIII: The Last Jedi - Fandom
Genre: Alternate Universe - Time Travel, Anal Sex, Body Horror, Executor, F/M, Kissing, M/M, Millenium Falcon, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Reylo - Freeform, Time Travel, cum-eating, descriptions of body alterations, descriptions of scarring, meditation chamber sex, sex scenes, touching without consent
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-12-15
Updated: 2018-01-15
Packaged: 2019-02-15 08:07:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 7,408
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13026819
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NaomiPhoenix/pseuds/NaomiPhoenix
Summary: What if the Executor, her crew and her master had not been permitted to join the Battle of Endor, but were made to witness the Emperor's great and glorious victory become his ultimate failure, and the downfall of the Empire?To escape their own destruction, Lord Vader orders a retreat, only for the Executor to be thrown off-course by the Death Stars destruction.But how far off-course, they never could have guessed





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> SPOILERS FOR THE LAST JEDI!
> 
> Disclaimer: Disney owns Star Wars, not me DX

**Future Rewritten**  
  
**(Excerpt from Return of the Jedi Novelisation by James Kahn, Chapter IX)**  
  
_The two space armadas, like their sea-bound counterparts of another time and galaxy, sat floating, ship to ship, trading broadsides with each other in point-blank confrontation._  
  
_Heroic, sometimes suicidal, manoeuvres marked the day. A Rebel Cruiser, its back alive with fires and explosions, limped into direct contact with an Imperial Star Destroyer before exploding completely - taking the Star Destroyer with it._  
  
-*-  
  
The _Eviscerator_ erupted into a fireball as it collided with the surface of the second Death Star, felled by an out-of-control Rebel A-wing. Safely centred in the bosom of Death Squadron, some distance from the main area of battle, was Darth Vader’s flagship, the Super Star Destroyer, _Executor_.  
  
Stood side-by-side on the bridge, Lord Vader and his second-in-command, Admiral Firmus Piett, watched the battle through the large observation window, and saw the fireball. They knew what it meant. The failure of the Emperor’s grand plan, the final destruction of the Rebel threat by _his_ forces for _his_ Glorification. But none of the players in his grand plan were where they _should_ be.  
  
The commanders of the Emperor's chosen fleet had one fatal flaw which had been well and truly exposed. They were not Death Squadron. They had not been chasing the Rebel fleet all over the Outer Rim, and the wider galaxy for years without learning not to underestimate their enemy. The commanders presently engaged in the battle had, combined, far less experience fighting against Rebel forces than those disengaged. And that was why they would fail, and fall, this day.  
  
Death Squadron, under the command of their fleet admiral, should have been front and centre of the battle, not made to play second fiddle, acting as a mindless barrier between destruction and escape for the Rebel forces. And Lord Vader, he should not have been on the bridge of his flagship. Upon the first report of a lightsaber wielding individual coming over the comm, he should have been on a shuttle to the Sanctuary Moon to confront the Jedi, Luke Skywalker. But the Emperor had interfered, had ordered Lord Vader to stay put, and Lord Vader must obey his master.  
  
Many minutes elapsed from the first report of Skywalker on the moon, building up almost to an hour, accompanied with wild reports of the primitive population aiding the Rebel infiltrators. Amongst it all came the news the Death Star was fully armed and operational, and preparing to fire. With the trepidation of many building to the point of their duties being noticeably affected, they found themselves bearing witness to a second massive explosion, a bright orange-yellow spreading out through the emerald woods almost directly beneath the Death Star. All over the bridge alarms wailed the warning the Death Stars shield had failed, and it was only the beginning of the erupting chaos.  
  
Lord Vader’s order to evacuate was met with equal parts trepidation and relief. Relief to leave the chaos they had been cast aside to bear witness to behind, yet trepidation as to the price they would be made to pay for running. But none dared speak up, or there would be a more immediate price to pay.  
  
The tell-tale vibration of the Executor’s hyperdrive engaging was cut through by an outside force at the precise moment they jumped. The natural, visually blue tunnel of hyperspace was instead a warped rainbow of shattered light. The vibration became a quake, and as quakes do, it soon began to cause damage, chaos and death. Men and women were tossed about like ragdolls. Not even the Dark Lord of the Sith was able to keep to his feet, almost crushing his unfortunate admiral when he fell. Lord Vader and Vader alone perceived the supernatural screams of the Force, so fierce they rang through his head dulling his other senses.  
  
Then, just as quickly as it had begun, it was over. Lord Vader was the first to recover himself in the immediate aftermath. Once he had aided Admiral Piett to his feet as well, the pair moved to access the damage. Only a minute elapsed before reports began coming into the bridge. Initial death toll, number of injuries and damage assessments. There was a certain feeling of pride in the crew’s efficiency.  
  
Then somebody noticed the stars. Triangulating their position was a natural priority but the strangeness of the results stalled early reports.  
  
“Admiral! You need to see this!” the officer finally called out.  
  
“What is it, Lieutenant?” the Admiral approached, a dark shadow following in this wake.  
  
“The stars, Admiral, initially they didn’t match any known star-chart, sir, until I used a subroutine to compensate for star-shift,” his voice shook as he spoke, and he paused to take a deep breath before he continued, "It compensated for approximately three decades of star-shift, sir. We overshot Bespin. We’re galactic south of Eriadu, very near the Rimma Trade Route.”  
  
“Sir!" Any chance to respond to the strange news was swept aside. “A ship just came out of hyperspace! It’s the Millennium Falcon!”


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The survivors of the Resistance aboard the Millennium Falcon find themselves in an impossible situation...again

The adrenaline was just beginning to wear off and the enormity of reality settling in, when they exited hyperspace to switch routes. On the Rimma Space Route or the Hydian Way, they had a hope of becoming lost in a sea of traffic, which would only increase as they made a risky journey through the Inner Rim. Other they were there though, they would double back into the Outer Rim.  
  
Chewie’s startled roar from the cockpit made even the unconscious Rose jump. Rey, Finn and Poe were the first to reach him, somehow managing not to catch themselves in the doorway as they bundled in all at once.  
  
“Is it just me or is they an _Executor_ -class Star Dreadnought?” said Poe.  
  
“It is,” answered Rey.  
  
“They can’t have tracked us again. Not after everything,” one of the survivor’s said sadly.  
  
Chewbacca replied and Rey translated, “Chewie said it was already here, before we arrived.”  
  
“Does anyone recall the First Order having one?” Finn turned to ask those gathered in the doorway.  
  
“No, intel only ever identified one: Snoke’s Star Dreadnought,” Kaydel replied.  
  
“Rey,” Leia called, drawing almost everyone back into the lounge in her wake. “Do you sense that?” The two women joined hands and together reached out with the Force.  
  
Rey almost immediately began to shiver, “I feel cold. Fear. Anger. Hate.” An uneasiness spread. “But there’s something else.” Her eyes flew open. “Conflict. Greater than I sensed in Kylo Ren.”  
  
“It’s not _an Executor_ -class Star Dreadnought. It’s the Executor,” added Leia.  
  
"Impossible! It was destroyed at Endor. Thirty years ago!”  
  
“Is it really _him_?” whispered Poe.  
  
The Millennium Falcon shuddered.  
  
They were caught in a tractor beam.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Millennium Falcon meets the Lady Ex

The Millennium Falcon. Its sudden appearance under such strange circumstances was almost too ridiculous to be real. As was the ease of its capture. It made no attempt to fight or fire on the Executor, nor the TIE’s sent out to escort it. It simply came quietly.  
  
Admiral Piett wondered if its passengers, should they turn out to be who he suspected, would do the same. What the lieutenant had said could not be forgotten. But how could it be true? He turned his head a little to look at the Dark Lord of the Sith stood a little in front of and to the side of him. Did he believe it? Piett wanted to ask but a hanger was not place to make the inquiry.  
  
With the amount of trooper and officers present, one might have mistakenly assumed the arrival was that of the Emperor, and not the Millennium Falcon.  
  
The Emperor. Was he truly dead? Another question Piett placed aside to ask at a more appropriate time.  
  
The Falcon came to rest with a solid sound and two troopers stepped forward with the equipment necessary to force open the entry ramp. They needn’t have bothered. It opened on its own accord.  
  
A blue and white astromech droid came barrelling down the ramp at top speed, beeping furiously.  
  
“R2!” A woman’s voice called bringing the droid came to a sudden stop, its lens focused intently on Lord Vader. The Sith Lord ignored it.  
  
Her voice was strong, commanding, but with something that hinted at age. Slowly, she walked down. She was not great in stature but her presence was still grand. Her face had a recognisable beauty hardly wearied by age but perhaps touched by emotion. She supported herself with a white cane, and wore a deep grey dress under a dark blue robe. Her jewels were few but fine. Her hair done in a way which declared her Nobility, perhaps even Aristocracy or Royalty.  
  
Her companions followed. A sun-tanned young woman, who held in each hand pieces of a cylindrical object, held in a way like they were meant to be noticed. A young man of dark complexion carrying the unconscious form of another young woman. A slightly older man of naturally tan complexion checked her head didn’t move about too much. A strange looking, round, orange and white droid followed them closely. Others came forward, all dressed in recognisably Rebel uniforms. And lastly a Wookiee carrying a deactivated gold protocol droid. The Wookiee Chewbacca.  
  
Counting the droids, twenty-one in total. None of them Solo or Skywalker. But the woman who led them - if one was willing to believe they were thirty years in the future, she could possibly be . . .  
  
“Princess Leia of Alderaan.” Vader said it. Even with the vocoder, his disbelief was audible.  
  
“General Organa, these days,” she replied in an almost friendly tone. There was something in her eyes too. Vader signalled for their arrest, and for others to search the ship. The Princess General raised a hand, two fingers really, towards one of the troopers come forward to arrest her, then to the other. Both dropped what they had in their hands to clutch at their throats. Both uttering the unmistakable sounds of strangulation. Her companions knelt - no - ducked but for the young woman, who, with objects still in hand, threw her arms out wide. Troopers were cast aside like ragdolls, sent flying into peers and officers, knocking dozens down. The objects in her hands were quickly shoved into her satchel and she reached out again - to snatch Lord Vader’s saber right off his belt as the others rose, weapons to hand but for the two incapacitated. Every one of them looked willing to fight, and prepared to die.  
  
The two troopers hit the floor, one immediately after the other.  
  
“They’re not dead, just unconscious,” the Princess General spoke again, still sounding rather casual.  
  
“How?”  
  
“The Force is strong in my family,” she answered cryptically, with a sad smile.  
  
“No matter.” Vader struck with a familiar gesture and the young woman gasped. Fear shadowed her features but for a moment before being done away with by determination. Gritting her teeth she snarled - and charged Lord Vader, her speed supernaturally enhanced, his lightsabre lit. _She stopped him by giving him no choice but to stop_.  
  
And so did she. The young woman stood in front of him, blade held ready to make a killing strike. She switched it off, flipped it over in her hand and held the hilt out to Vader. “Everything has changed. All your secrets are no longer secrets. In every corner of the galaxy. Even the most obscure places - Anakin Skywalker.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks Ara for helping me brainstorm the cliffie!


	4. Chapter 4

Where they should have erupted into action, nothing was done. The troopers, the officers - even Admiral Piett were frozen where they stood. When the Millennium Falcon had been captured, they had all been confident they knew they enemy they would find inside. They had just watched their comrades fall to the Rebellion over Endor because they ill-conceived their enemy. Now it seemed they had fallen into the same trap.  
  
An aged Princess wielding the Force like - like she was Vader. And this young woman, casting troopers aside like feathers in the wind. She snatched Vader’s infamous weapon from him without batting an eyelid. She face him choking her with utter fearlessness, and forced him to back down. Then, just when it seemed the situation could not become any more strange, she lowered his weapon rather than attempting to strike the Dark Lord of the Sith down.  
  
Then she offered it back to him, with her name - Rey.  
  
Lord Vader did not take it back immediately but stated she was a Jedi. Her response was not what had been expected.  
  
“No. One can walk in the light and not be a Jedi. The Jedi are not the be all to end all.”   
  
Once the hilt was back in his hands, Lord Vader returned it to his belt, rather than striking, or at least attempting to strike this not-Jedi named Rey, down.  
  
The series of exceptional events continued. Lord Vader ordered the troops and officers return to their previous duties, and medics to come to tend to the unconscious woman. They were escorted, from the hanger. Troopers and officers alike hugged the walls and whispered as the Rebel group was guided through halls and corridors of the Executor by their Supreme Commander and his Admiral. The subject of their being disarmed never came up. Nor was the unconscious woman’s removal to a medical bay. She was instead tended to in a corner of the conference room, the young man who had carried her never leaving her side but still taking a keen interest in the unfolding conversation.  
  
"I gotta ask: how are we here and not in the brig right now?" the man with the orange and white droid asked.  
  
"The Force," Rey and the General answered at the same time.  
  
"Lord Vader senses much has changed, Commander Dameron," Leia continued.  
  
"Ah. Commander?"  
  
"Unless you prefer Captain." She fixed him with a look.  
  
"No, ma'am. Commander sounds better." His droid beeped something.  
  
“You’d be wise to listen to BB-8.”  
  
“Yeah, sure thing buddy. I’ll definitely look after it better this time.”  
  
"If the order was given search for Imperial allies, what would we find?" Lord Vader inquired to the Princess General as she and her people were seated.  
  
"Trouble. More than you’re prepared for. The mindlessly loyal and the unscrupulously backstabbing remnants of the old Empire recently returned to the galaxy from the Unknown Regions where they’ve been growing in strength and numbers for thirty years. The First Order."  
  
“What more?”  
  
As Leia began to answer, her people exchanged uncomfortable, worried looks. It did not help the vast majority could not judge Lord Vader’s thoughts or feelings by any expression or body language. The man was like a statue of solid black marble, stood at the head of the table behind where his Admiral was seated, as Leia filled him in- the Battle of Endor, where they realised their paths diverged; Project: Cinder, where the Emperor callously targeted his most loyal worlds for destruction; the Battle of Jakku, where the Empire met its official end; the rise of the New Republic, and its fall with the destruction of the Hosnian System; the Resistance counter-attack which saw the monstrous Starkiller base fall and finally, the conflict which had bought them there. Her voice never once faltering.  
  
“What of Luke?” she had avoided all mention of him. She didn’t hesitate to answer before, but now she did. She continued to hesitate until he moved, just a little.  
  
It was in her power and her power alone to protect her people right now, even if it meant sacrificing herself for them - which she would gladly do. But this, why did it have to be like this?  
  
This time it shook. “My twin brother is dead.” 


	5. Chapter 5

Admiral Piett walked into Lord Vader’s darkened quarters, aware his master was present but receiving no answer to his request to enter. At any other time, he would have left it be, and waited until the Dark Lord of the Sith chose to contact him. But that time was thirty years past now, when the Sith Lord didn’t have a daughter and his true identity was still a secret. There were approximately two-hundred and eighty-one thousand men and women on board the Executor, who would soon know his true identity. Piett was just grateful their being thirty years in the future wasn’t widely believed, despite the thousand troopers and officers who had seen the Princess Organa with their own eyes. Bridge crews were always better at keeping secrets.  
  
Casting his eyes around, Piett was drawn to several items littering the floor, three of which together, created a familiar façade.  
  
There was no sound, and fearing that the not-Jedi or the Princess General might have done something to the Dark Lord of the Sith with their supernatural powers, he rushed further in, towards a cluttered workbench, to the nearest comm to call for back-up. Daughter or not, Leia Organa had no love for her natural father. She had been his enemy for a very long time.  
  
He did not expect to find his master there, pressed in the corner, an emergency face mask concealing the lower half of his face. Revealing his eyes, wide and bloodshot through with exhaustion; bright blue and highlighted by small light which Piett had switched on before reaching towards the comm.  
  
For the second time, Firmus Piett saw his master unmasked. He shuddered now as he had done the first time, the sight of his face just as morbidly fascinating. Not because of the deep, disfiguring scars which marred the left side of his face and head, but for the beauty still apparent. Piett’s memories of Anakin Skywalker were vague at best, but there was something of the Jedi poster boy still there. And those eyes. The Admiral had seen Luke Skywalker’s wanted poster enough times to recognise they were the same.  
  
In his master’s face was apparent all the pain and distress he was feeling. Caused Lord Vader’s estranged daughter had told him, minutes at the most had elapsed between Luke Skywalker’s death, and the Executor’s arrival. Only they insisted he had not died, but ascended to become one with the Force, whatever that was supposed to mean. And whatever it meant, Lord Vader was clearly finding no comfort in the knowledge.  
  
"Would you believe I suffer from claustrophobia, Admiral?" Barely muffled by the mask, his voice was so different without the vocoder. Rich and masculine, but with a softness to it. His accent was nothing like the high-Coruscanti the vocoder pretended. Lord Vader had an Outer Rim accent. He was from Tatooine, like his son.  
  
"I've seen no proof of it, my Lord but I will take your word for it." He somehow managed to articulate a response.  
  
"It is the truth. Many times when I have retired to my chambers, it is because I am suffering an episode," his master confessed.  
  
“My Lord, I -“ Feeling awkward standing over the Sith Lord, Piett lowered himself until he was kneeling by his master’s side. “I placed the Rebel Princess and her people in VIP quarters. They’ve been supplied with cots, toiletries, food and medical care. I’ve ordered the medical staff to monitor them. They are - less intrusive.” Lord Vader had a faraway look in his eyes. Something Piett long suspected he had often, unseen behind the mask. “They wanted to remain together,” he added.  
  
“At the Battle of Scarif, I saw her ship fleeing the battle field, after following Rebels in Alderaanian naval uniform, to her ships door. I knew they were carrying the Death Star plans,” Lord Vader began. “When we caught up to the Tantive IV, she lied to me - blatantly, yet straight-faced. She genuinely looked angered that I would dare suggest she was in anyway involved with the Rebellion. She insisted she was on a diplomatic mission to Alderaan, despite the planet being in the opposite direction to where they were travelling. I thought her attempt pitiable to the point of ridiculous,” he spoke introspectively. “But now, knowing the truth, that _she’s my daughter_ , I only have myself to blame -“  
  
“- she gets it from me.”  
  
What could anyone say to that? No reassurance could be given, the two had been enemies too long. No thought of suggesting an offer help might be made, surely neither would deign to consider it. He couldn't make a joke of it; he respected his master too greatly, and he knew the other's humour, on the rare occasions he had shown it, was dark, and now was no time for such humour.  
  
He couldn't say anything - no words were appropriate. But that wasn't to say there was nothing. Piett could do something. If only dared to reach out.  
  
So he did. Piett removed his gloves and reached out to place his hand over the Sith Lord’s, to give a warm, comforting touch, but the hand he found to be beneath black leather gloves was prosthetic, like and of durasteel.  
  
Legend surrounding Darth Vader said he was more machine than man, but Firmus Piett could see the man - vulnerable, perhaps a little. Sith Hells, they all were right now. But Lord Vader surely had it worst of all. To have his world torn asunder could bring even the greatest of men down. ' _All your secrets are known, even in the most obscure places in the galaxy._ ' How anyone was supposed to hear that, and not suffer a little, was impossible. Then to learn an age-old enemy was his own lost child, and her twin, the child he knew about, was dead.  
  
He found the partly exposed cheek warmer under his hand than he had expected the pale, delicate-looking skin to be. The durasteel hand which he had reached out to before now came to him, pressing the hand closer. And still Lord Vader sort more of his Admiral's touch, going so far as to remove the mask so it would be uninterrupted. He drank up the contact like a man starved for it.  
  
Beneath half-closed lips his pupils were blown. A full-lipped mouth parted open with a soft sigh and before Admiral Piett was aware of his actions he had his own pressed to them for several, long seconds before they parted.  
  
Barely separated, they looked to one another, both disbelieving what had just happened.  
  
But inevitably, they were drawn back together.


	6. Chapter 6

_They couldn’t stop touching._  
  
It had been decades since Lord Vader had felt the warm touch of another being upon his living flesh. For so long the need had been there, like a craving impossible to satisfy. Now here was his Admiral, reaching out to him.  
  
With his innocent touch, he had awoken a passionate fervour in his master, and in doing so, induced a similar state in himself. He never suspected his simple empathetic gesture would blossom into this - Lord Vader responding so ardently to an innocent, though admittedly, intimate touch.  
  
_They couldn't stop kissing._  
  
Lord Vader drank of his Admiral’s kisses deeper than the breaths of pure oxygen he needed just to keep going.  
  
To have this man in his arms, so close the scent of warm plastisteel, machine oil and something uniquely human male, filled the Admirals' senses and intoxicated him. The feel of his master’s durasteel hands, even as they skimmed over his throat on their way to caress his body, only served to cause little jolts and shocks of pleasure in their wake. The taste of metal in his mouth might as well have been the purest, sweetest nectar. His own hands roamed freely, but not carelessly, not daring to caress too close to any of the suits controls. There was plenty more to explore. He learned his master’s arms were durasteel, to just above the elbow and both legs to above the knee. The rest appeared to be flesh; strong and muscular - and hard. A particularly daring hand found its way beneath the Sith Lord’s codpiece. What Piett found there made his mouth water. It was hot, hard and pulsing with life. Lord Vader, who had been clutching the oxygen mask to his face, trying to fill his lungs made the most breathlessly passionate and broken cry Piett had ever heard in his life as he bucked desperately, seeking a firmer touch.  
  
Piett pulled away suddenly.  
  
With nimble fingers the Admiral made quick work of his belt and parted the magnetic clasps of his jacket with ease, shrugging it off, letting it slide down his arms to reveal lean, strong limbs.  
  
"I want you."  
  
Never had Lord Vader wanted to be out of this unbearable monstrosity called armour more. To be out of it and free to feel the touch of his Admiral with whatever was left of him which could feel. The specialised environment of his meditation chamber had never seemed so close yet so far away.  
  
Lord Vader was almost to the point of passing out when the orb was finally sealed and filled, not the least because the Admiral had found his suit’s hidden closures. He shivered as the medicated atmosphere made contact with his exposed shoulder in the wake of Piett’s oral exploration.  
  
When they were at last stripped bare, Piett found that which was not machine was a patchwork of skin grafts and skin whose texture had been altered by burns, with different levels of sensation. But what really surprised him was the armour in no way disguised Lord Vader’s true proportions, but were rather indicative of it. He was as big and as strong as he appeared, and Piett revelled in the discovery.¹  
  
No longer hindered by the need to breathe through a mask, Lord Vader proved himself as eager to explore, to give, to continue to devour like a man starve, until they were both quivering from anticipation.  
  
From a hidden medical cabinet, he produced a small bottle of lubricant before drawing Piett with him over to the chair and draping himself over it. His hands went to Piett’s hips, to guide him into draping himself over his master, their positions bringing them to the prefect level to bring their mouths together again and again, without one needing to bend down or the other rise to his tiptoes. He was caught off-guard when Lord Vader pressed the bottle into his hand. If it was possible to be any more aroused, it would be because of the sight of the exposed, enflamed Sith Lord beneath him, begging with hungry eyes and trembling mouth to be taken.  
  
This might be the only time he would be permitted to make love to this mighty warrior - he certainly wasn't going to rush it. He took his time preparing Lord Vader. Teased, touched and tasted until his master begged, sobbed to be taken.  
  
It was utter bliss. They fit so perfectly together it was as though they were made for each other. And this place, the lay of the chair, it size and how well it accommodated them - it might have well been designed solely for this purpose.  
  
Unlike his damaged, patchwork skin, internally Lord Vader could feel everything. Every thrust of Piett’s cock over his prostate. And it seemed to awaken deadened surface nerves. He felt every breathtaking second of his Admirals blunt nails dragging down his torso, over his hips and along the inside of his thighs. They left fire in their wake and he felt like his skin was burning all over again, only it doesn’t stir up feelings of fear, pain or anger - Lord Vader finds himself hopelessly aroused instead. Wanton in a way he thought he'd never feel again. Reduced to nothing but _oh's_ and _ah's_ , he could not help and wonder idly if the vocoder would conceal how broken his voice had become. For once he looks forward to being in the suit in future for he would know that underneath it would be concealed lovers marks, and his smirking, swollen lips. And that pleasant ache he had not experienced since his married life, long ago.  
  
Piett was so unafraid to touch him. When he came suddenly, and to his own surprise by the expression Lord Vader glimpsed but for a moment, the Admiral didn’t for a second neglect his master’s pleasure. Before he could catch his own breath, he dropped to his knees on the chamber floor to suck his essence from the Sith. Caught up in the new sensation, Lord Vader was not aware of Piett preparing himself until the Admiral crawled back into his master’s arms, taking his cock in hand as he straddled him and guided him in.  
  
Piett would have his own marks to hide under his uniform. Not the least the bruises from then artificial fingertips on his buttocks, where he’s held onto for dear life while he rides his master to completion, then manhandled into position over his master’s eager mouth, which tasted and sucked until he had comes again².  
  
The way they held each other after, touching and kissing, and simply basking in all the joys that intimacy bought, they might have been mistaken for long-time lovers, completely comfortable with each other at their most vulnerable, their most exposed.  
  
“The Emperor is dead. The Empire is gone, and that which took its place is in turmoil,” Lord Vader spoke against Piett’s brow. “We have two-hundred and eighty-one thousand men and women under own command, thirty years out of time.”  
  
“What about this ‘First Order’?”  
  
“There is something the Princess did not tell us about them. I sensed it from all of them. Something we must know before a decision can be made.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1- https://pieder.tumblr.com/post/166547299880/darth-vader-admiral-firmus-piett-the-meditation
> 
> 2 - https://pieder.tumblr.com/post/166516811790/darth-vader-firmus-piett-the-meditation-chamber
> 
> Join Pieder Discord - https://discord.gg/XxNkxyP
> 
> and/or Join Imperials Discord - https://discord.gg/KgeV59C


	7. Chapter 7

For only the second time in her life, and in just the space of a few days, Rey indulged in a thorough cleansing with water. The Imperial medics had promised there was plenty enough for all of them - the positive side of their being housed in VIP quarters. If they’d been put in the brig, Poe had whispered, they’d been lucky to have a working sonic between them.  
  
The water was idyllically hot, but suddenly Rey had the urge to shiver. It wasn’t until _he_ spoke she realised why.  
  
“I guess now we’re even.” Rey almost screamed but managed to muffle the sound with her hands as she turned her back to Kylo Ren, almost slipping on the wet floor. “Where are you?” Amusement laced his voice.  
  
“In the refresher, obviously,” she said through gritted teeth, determined not to make a spectacle of herself in front of him. He hadn’t when they’d connected while he had been half-dressed.  
  
“I noticed,” he chuckled. “You’re cleansing with water. Quite an indulgence for a desert scavenger,” he said conversationally. “And rather interesting, seeing as the piece of garbage you escaped in only has sonics - some of the time,” he countered. “So I ask again, where are you? Have you met with allies already?”  
  
“I’m not telling you anything,” she hissed, keeping her voice to a low volume.  
  
He noticed. “Is there someone there? Are you afraid of being heard talking to me?” he asked. “Are you afraid my mother will see me, like Luke did?” His voice sounded closer but Rey refused to look around to check.  
  
As they had reached out to touch hands on Ahch-to, he reached out. Bare fingers chased water down her naked back. Incensed by the forwardness of his touch she span around only to find him a hairsbreadth away. He held her eyes as he brought his wet fingers to his mouth and darted his tongue out to taste it. She wanted to kick herself for how she reacted, for the blood which flooded to her cheeks and pooled low. His eyes reflected her involuntary arousal. Neither of them were willing to back down.  
  
“Recycled,” he mused, somehow managing to stay on subject. “Ships with water showers means money. Wealthy allies.”  
  
“You’re wrong, Ben,” she spoke suddenly. “Whatever you’re guessing now, you’re wrong.”  
  
For several long moments he fixed her with a look before he shrugged. “Perhaps.” She wanted to turn away again when he tilted to _look_ at her. “I felt Luke’s passing. But afterwards, there was another disturbance in the Force.”  
  
“Luke’s passing wasn’t a disturbance. It was peaceful,” she countered, getting right up in his face.  
  
“He got lucky. If he’d really bothered to show up . . . “ He left the rest unsaid. “So did you feel it?”  
  
He faded away before she could think of any response.


	8. Chapter 8

Even Lord Vader looked like he had been injured in the shipquake, as they were calling it, by the looks of the slight limp in his gait. Piett was the same. They got lucky, Veers thought, but so had he. He was only nursing a minor electrical burn. Two of his Thunderers had been crushed under falling equipment. And another dozen crew overall were dead. Then there were the thousands of injuries, minor and critical.   
  
And that was just the tip of the proverbial iceberg.   
  
Veers hadn’t been on the bridge when the Millennium Falcon had come out of hyperspace, not had he been in the hanger when it had been brought on-board. But he had heard the whispers - and seen the aftermath. Rumour had it the infamous ship had been carrying the last survivors of the Rebellion. Which made no sense because the Executor had just retreated from a battle the Rebellion had won. Their numbers had not been so few. Their fleet nowhere near the point of being reduced to a single ship.   
  
But that wasn’t even the strangest thing.  
  
Veers had heard the details of the bizarre series of events for someone who had been in the hangar to witness it all first hand. An astromech droid charging Vader; an aged Leia Organa wielding the Force, choking two troopers like she was Vader. Veers had seen the two unfortunates with his own eyes. Brought into the same medical wing as him, clearly unconscious, and he heard the doctors agree, they had lost consciousness due to oxygen deprivation with no signs of having been choked.  
  
Then there were the reports concerning the second Force-users - not Luke Skywalker but a young woman who was the cause of the small inflow of troopers and officers after she sent them flying, they said. Snatched Vader’s saber right off his belt before she handed it, _handed it_ , back. It was even said that he had conversed with the young woman, but no-one heard what they said. Well, Piett might have as he had been standing right next to the Sith Lord but Piett wasn’t one to talk.  
  
At least no unless he was behind closed doors, which was where they were headed too now.  
  
Maximillian Veers was not the only one to stop in their tracks upon seeing who approached from the other end of the hall, surrounded by troopers. It was unmistakably Organa. She really was older, thought Veers. And not a little bit, but decades older. Not only was she using a walking stick, she had grey hair. Not all over, but the silver streaks on each side were hard to miss. But it was there.  
  
Her companions were even more surprising. Excluding the Wookiee who was unmistakably Chewbacca, Han Solo's first mate, and one or two others, the rest of her companions looked to be aged from late adolescence to mid-twenties.   
  
‘ _What the kriff is going on_?’


	9. Chapter 9

Leia looked to Rey to see if the young woman sensed what she herself was sensing. From the thoughtful expression on Rey’s face, she had and was puzzling over what it could mean. Leia would not be the one to enlighten her. Let the poor young woman keep her innocence a little longer.  
  
Force knew Leia could have done without the knowledge that Darth Vader, _her birth father_ , was capable of knowing anyone carnally.  
  
_What could the two men possibly see in each other_? No. She wasn’t going to give it any greater depth of thought. She needed to keep her mind on the here and now. She’d need it for the interrogation she was sure was soon to come.  
  
With a gesture, Lord Vader signalled for their escort to walk them in. Dameron had the gall to salute the Imperial’s on his way in. It drew giggles from a couple of the others. Bless them for keeping a good humour. They were going to need that too.  
  
Their escort was hardly out the door and the Imperial officers hadn’t all seated themselves before Vader demanded to know more about the First Order.  
  
“Is that really where you want to start? Only you and _your Admiral_ were present during our previous discussion - and I sense you’ve been too preoccupied since then to fill them in." The words dripped like honey from her lips. The Admiral shifted in his seat, just a little. Leia didn’t want to think it was anything more than her words which caused his discomfort. The creaking sound of leather being stretched was a little less subtle.  
  
“Whatever duties Lord Vader chooses to make his priority, Princess, it is not for you to question,” one of the officers defended his commander. Oh, if he only knew.  
  
“As tempted as I am to relieve you of your ignorance on that account, and correct your assumption, I think I’ll keep it to myself for now,” she smiled. It was a joy to see them all scratching their collective heads. Luke and Han would be proud, she thought. And it served Vader right for making his dalliance obvious to anyone with the Force as their ally. “I will however tell you, there is nothing we don’t know about any of you. You service records, you ISB files. Everything from the days of the Empire has long ago been declassified.” That had them all shifting in their seats.  
  
“The Empire and the Emperor fell thirty years ago. At Endor. The Executor, not including those on the ground, were lost when the ship’s bridge deflector went down. An out-of-control A-wing hit the bridge straight-on. Ship’s controls were lost for long enough the Executor was caught in the Death Star’s gravity and impacted, killing all on board. And you,” she turned to Vader, “died on the Death Star, _after you cast down the Emperor to save the life of your son._ You died in Luke’s arms. As Rey said to you in the hanger, all your secrets are known. And as Luke’s twin, and your biological daughter, I’ve had to live with that.” For Leia there was a sense of relief, like ripping off an old band-aid. It stank, and it pull out a tone of individual hairs by the roots, but once it was done, it was over and she could move one. Let the shocked, some even sick-faced Imperials deal with it now. They could choke on it for all she cared. Hell, she’d help.  
  
“It’s only going to get worse, at least for now. Not just for you, but your people too,” she continued, addressing the table as a whole. She had their absolute, undivided attention now. “It was only after Palpatine’s death that the depths of his evil and depravity were revealed. I’ve already informed Lord Vader and Admiral Piett of Project: Cinder - Vardos, Burnin Konn, Candovant, Abednedo, and Commenor were targeted. The most loyal of Imperial worlds. Imperial forces were ordered to place satellites in orbit of these planets. To form a climate disruption array, to create electrical storms and other extreme weather which would ravage the planets. Also Naboo, his own homeworld, was amongst those targeted. We spent the next three months working to save those worlds. But he wasn’t done yet."  
  
“For years, even during the high of the Empire, he was sending people, plans and materials out into the Unknown Regions, to found a second Empire, one more in keeping with his image. For thirty years they were out there, with most people being unaware of their existence or figuring that they couldn’t possibly be a threat, suckled on Tarkin's proverbial tits - until a few days ago.”  
  
“Their Supreme Leader Snoke wanted to find Luke Skywalker, because he believed the son of Darth Vader would be able to stop him. A few days ago, you could say that there was a race, to find Luke Skywalker. So confident was this Supreme Leader, that his people would find and kill Luke in short order, he allowed his pet General, Armitage Hux, the now very much grown son of Commandant Brendol Hux, to use the superweapon they had been building - Starkiller Base. Hosnian Prime had been the capital of the New Republic. The five inhabited planets of the Hosnian system were wiped out by it in a single strike.”  
  
“Yeah, but we took out Starkiller - the same as the first Death Star. Straight down a trench and into the thermal exhaust port. They were even nice enough to make it a bigger target,” Poe chipped in.   
  
“Naturally they came after us, diminished our numbers, but our people diminished theirs too. Snoke will be licking his wounds for a while.”  
  
“Actually - he won’t,” Rey said suddenly.  
  
“Rey?” Finn stepped away from the sedated Rose.  
  
“Everything happened so fast. I didn’t get a chance to say anything. Snoke is dead.”  



	10. Chapter 10

“Dead?!” several voices said at once, all on the side of the Rebels.  
  
“You didn’t?” added Leia, somewhat awed.  
  
“No.” Rey paused uncomfortably, hesitating to continue, “He did it, Leia. He killed him.”  
  
“How, Rey? How could he have possibly done such a thing when that monster is so firmly implanted in his head?” Leia demanded to know.  
  
With a deal of hesitation still, Rey began her recollection from the time she entered Snoke’s throne room with Kylo Ren, and continue somehow without mentioning the latter’s name once. Both sides listened with attentiveness as she described Snoke as a tall humanoid, aged and scarred, who had exuded a cocky air of self-confidence, so certain was he that he was infallible. She told them how he seemed to have the power behind him to back it up in the way he had taunted her, how moved her around like a doll while barely lifting a finger and how he had disarmed her twice before she could get near enough to him to strike him down. She described how Snoke had given a commentary of Kylo Ren’s every thought and motion while it was happening leading up the apprentice killing his master. All because he had put one of the lightsaber’s he had taken from her on the arm of his throne.   
  
“The apprentice saw an opportunity and took it,” Vader commented. His intonation was disconcertingly neutral. The look Leia gave him however was not.  
  
“But what motivated him? Rey. Why were you there in the first place?” asked Leia.  
  
“I - when I was with Luke,” she stuttered there and almost stalled but no one commented, all too eager to hear her story, “on the island. I had a vision. That history would repeat itself. That he could be saved. I went because I wanted to give that hope a chance.” She sighed, “Luke was right though. He said it wouldn’t happen the way I thought it would.”  
  
“Visions are a tricky thing, Rey. Luke knew that better than anyone. But you didn’t, and it’s one of those lessons typically learned the hard way.” Leia glanced at Vader.  
  
“So now Snoke’s dead, they don’t have any leadership?” Finn asked, sounding hopeful. Several members of the Resistance nodded in agreement.  
  
Vader stole it away. “When an apprentice defeats their master, they themselves become the master,” he answered.  
  
“So there’s a good chance he’s Supreme Leader now,” sighed Poe.  
  
“And _who is he_?” Vader demanded to know.  
  
“Leia, you don’t have to tell him.” BB-8 chirped his agreement.  
  
“Yes I do, Poe. If for no other reason that for Luke. As much as I dislike saying it, Luke’s faith wasn’t wasted before. Perhaps it won’t be wasted again,” Leia responded. Still, a headache seemed suddenly to assail her and she took the time to pinch the bridge of her nose to stave it off. “His name is Kylo Ren. He’s master of the Knights of Ren, a group of dark siders - all former students of Luke’s.”  
  
“What more?” Vader called her out, and Force help her she almost reached out to choke him. But she wouldn’t deign to fall to his level.  
  
“His real name is Ben.” She swallowed, “Ben Preston Organa-Solo. He’s my son. Mine and Han’s.”  



End file.
